In the white where all is focusless,
turn your eye to where the focus is,
where your mind is never tedious,
for a while.
In our eyes you see with sepia,
grab the bags and run delirious.
It's a bright, curious and endless sky.
We were told it would be,
like a wave in the sea,
but then your bones fell apart,
because the landing was hard;
you'd fallen into concrete.
On and on it's numbered
places never seen,
I walk on and on and on and on.
Faces in the paintings pull me with their looks,
I walk on and on and on and on.
Waves up to the attic,
eggs are moving on,
I move on,
I move on,
I move on,
finally moving on.